


Christmas Angel

by thetrueenemyofhumanity



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:18:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetrueenemyofhumanity/pseuds/thetrueenemyofhumanity
Summary: Angela is never one to take it easy. Christmas presents itself as a whole new mission and she won't rest until she achieves perfection.





	Christmas Angel

After almost three hours you were finally placing the last bauble on the tree, just about finding space among the branches covered in lights, tinsel, and an unreasonable amount of baubles to hang the damn thing. You straightened and took a step back, rolling your shoulders to relieve the tension from the stretching and bending you had done over the evening.

“Ah! Wunderbar!” came a soft gasp from behind you.

You turned to see Angela enter, walking slowly so as not to spill any of the cocoa from the giant mugs she was holding. Angela always had to go above and beyond; the amount of decorations she owned was a testament to that. But she always made the best hot cocoa. She would melt the finest chocolate- Swiss, of course- into warm milk, taking her time to melt in marshmallows so that every sip would have the perfect taste. Once poured, she would top with a mountain of whip-cream, cocoa powder, marshmallows, and even a freshly baked cookie. Like any extravagant treat, it was also a rare one, as the doctor wasn’t going to allow you to over-indulge on this diabetes inducing delicacy.

“I told you the other tree would have been too small,” Angela laughed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as she handed you your favourite mug. She wrapped her now free arm around your waist and rested her head against you as she looked in wonder at the sight before the both of you, sighing in contentment.

“I was going to wait for you to put up the last decoration but… Well you were gone a long time,” you told her, taking a sip. The wait was worth it: it was as delicious as ever.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have waited on me, Liebling! Besides, we haven’t put up the most important piece yet.”

You shot her a look of confusion before nodding in the direction of the small mountain of boxes you had unpacked. Their contents now placed precisely on the tree. She responded by raising her hand and pointing a slender finger to the top of the tree.

“You forget the angel!” she scolded, pulling away and walking to a cabinet, setting her own cup down before rummaging around.

“Wait… Doesn’t a star go on top?”

“Either is acceptable!” she replied, huffing as she hauled a pile of books out of her way, “The star is to represent the one that lead the wise men to the birth of Christ, and that star was the angel Gabriel in the story. As a child, my parents used to use this ridiculous one I made from card and glue.”

She returned carrying a battered piece of triangular cardboard with golden wings. One of its googly eyes had long since fallen off and now only three pieces of yellow string remained to represent its hair.

“I know that it is not as stylish as the other decorations but-”

“It’s beautiful,” you interrupted, placing your mug down to pull her into a hug, “You were quite the little artist, weren’t you?”

She wrapped her arms tight around you for a moment, breathing in your scent and relishing in your warmth.

“Danke,” she whispered, “And I am afraid that my art skills are likely at the same standard now. I am better with a scalpel than a pen.”

She pulled away and climbed onto a chair. One hand reaches up to place the angel atop the tree while her other held onto your shoulder for balance. You were always a source of sturdiness for her. In her hectic life, you were the solid support she needed.

After you helped her down she was reluctant to let go, so she settled for having her fingers intertwined with your own.

“As beautiful as that angel is, I think you’d look better on top there,” you commented, smirking as you took another sip.

“I was wondering how long you were going to hold off saying that,” she sighed, rolling her eyes, “I do not think that would work. I’m surprised the tree hasn’t toppled over with the weight upon it already. And also… I wouldn’t have you up there, would I? I’d be missing the best thing about Christmas: being with loved ones.”

She gave your hand a small squeeze and turned to give you a smile, only to burst out laughing a moment later.

“What?” you asked, unable to stop yourself smiling from her contagious laughter.

“Y…you…um…have a bit…” she managed, pointing to your face where a moustache of cream was now sitting.

You went red as she struggled to get her breath back. She stopped your hand as you went to wipe it away.

“Allow me,” she offered, pulling you close and pressing her lips against yours.

Perhaps not the most effective way of cleaning it, but you certainly weren’t about to complain.


End file.
